


Bangalore is a hell of a long way from Krygyzstan

by irridescentsong



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Your life has been a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irridescentsong/pseuds/irridescentsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt Egalitarianmuse: "MorMor, Post-Recheinbach, Moriarty faked his death too and he meets up with Seb to start their life up again without Sherlock’s interference."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bangalore is a hell of a long way from Krygyzstan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Egalitarianmuse](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Egalitarianmuse).



> This is quite a bit different from my previous works, and was written at 1 am. Has not been beta'd, or edited. I suppose this is what happens when I haven't written anything in months.

Every passing day, it seemed like it was harder and harder to get things under control, to stop his life from spiraling out of its convenient little circle, and then things ended up fucked to hell. Two years, nine months, fourteen days, six hours, eighteen minutes, and some odd seconds, and Sebastian couldn’t tell you what he’d been doing for all that time, just that the world had kept spinning under his feet after all this time, and suddenly and without warning, everything quit, and it all came hurtling back at once. 

It was different seeing the one he’d swore to protect with his life in front of his scope, and in the middle of the night, so black and thick with cloud cover the moon couldn’t even penetrate it (not like it would matter, because Seb had always been a smart sniper, preferring the matte black over flashier things, because shining in the dark could get you fucking killed), and his hands shook from the force of the grip on his rifle, finally having tracked down the sonofabitch who left him that awful goodbye message, telling him it wasn’t his fault, and that he loved him, even if he’d never said it, that Seb had given him something to live for, and he was fucking sorry as he sobbed on the video camera. Disgusted with himself and the thoughts flying around in his head, the haze of two years of anger in the back of his mind making a comeback, he did the only thing he could do - sent the bastard a text. 

_If I were you, I’d run pretty fucking fast right about now. SM_

He’d lifted a pretty snazzy new rifle off some American troops while he’d been crawling through the desert, crossed from Krygyzstan down into Pakistan and further south into India before finally returning back to London, picking up clients along the way, killing off old ones, and never really giving a fuck, waiting for someone to fucking kill him. Things had drastically changed when he’d gotten word that someone had recognized Jim in Bangalore, and as soon as he’d confirmed it himself, he’d headed home, just waiting for the arsehole to make himself known. It had truly only been a matter of time. Four months later, Jim had shown up as predicted, and they were where they stood now.

_Just kill me now if you’re going to. I had my reasons. Not like they matter to you. JM_

_Go on then. Because apparently I’ve just got all the time in the world to listen to your shite. SM_

_I had to keep you safe. I said what I said because I meant it. JM_

_I don’t believe you. SM_

_Then kill me and you’ll never have to deal with me again. JM  
I did what I had to and I did it for you. JM_  

Try as he fucking could, Sebastian couldn’t make himself depress the trigger, make that one swift movement that might or might not end the aching he felt in his chest, the anger and hatred he held buried for nearly three years. Three years of hoping he’d piss off just the right person and someone would finally snap and he’d be fucking dead because then it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with everything else that had gone wrong in his life. His number one job duty had been to keep Jim alive, even at the cost of his own life. He swore an oath to do just that, and the bastard went and killed himself. How was he supposed to live with the regret and the pain of knowing he’d failed his boss and sometimes lover?

_This doesn’t change anything. I still fucking hate you. SM_

_I never expected anything different. JM_

_You’re an arse, but you’re the boss. SM_

_You know you wouldn’t have it any other way. JM_

And much in the same fashion, things were nearly right again. Nearly. Sebastian packed up his rifle, the lightning speed from years of doing it and slung the case over his shoulder, dropping from the second story window to the ground and uncovered his motorbike to strap on his helmet and walk it 1200 metres down the road. 

_Get your arse down here now. We’re going home. SM_

_Yes, yes, I love you too, tiger. JM_


End file.
